Masks
by Aegypt
Summary: Damien, an acolyte of Mandrake House, experiences his first Midwinter Masque... and a few other firsts, as well. M/M. Not explicit, but deals with mature themes.


**Author's note:** You might remember Damien from my other fanfic, Shadows. I've been working on his story (very inconsistently) forever, and it's still not done... But I thought it would be fun to post this first chapter for the Longest Night. Enjoy!

I met Sebastien de Guiscarde-though I did not learn his name then- at the Midwinter Masque, the first and last that I was permitted to attend as an acolyte. I was too young to have begun my adept's training in earnest, but I was deemed old enough to assist Cereus House's acolytes with their duties for the night. Several of us from Mandrake were there, and a few from other Houses as well. The younger and smaller ones were assigned to pass around the trays of _joie. _Being older, I was given the task of replenishing the feast on the tables, and removing the emptied plates.

I will own, it was overwhelming at first. The Thirteen Houses know well how to host a fete, and none are more spectacular than the Midwinter Mask at Cereus House. For most of the realm, the Longest Night is a time of celebration and merriment. For the Night Court, it is that, and somewhat more. Once a year, we gather, the adepts of all Houses, with no patrons save those fortunate few who merit an invitation. We dress in finery and jewels, taking pride in our beauty, and we do it for ourselves, not for our patrons.

This year, feathers seemed to be the fashion: Eglantine adepts in cheerfully bright, plumed masks; Jasmine adepts like exotic birds, barely covered by swathes of richly dyed feathers; Alyssum all in high-necked white, trailing lengths of pale feathers like angels' wings. Even the adepts of my own House followed a similar theme, in severe browns and blacks with feathered masks to match, sporting hooked beaks like birds of prey.

All of us acolytes serving that night were given simple half-masks in pale colors. I tied on mine, a light, pearly gray, then studied myself in the mirror. Astor had braided my hair, scattering a few thin braids through and leaving the rest to fall loosely. He'd laughed, saying that with the golden hue of my hair, the braids made me look Skaldic. Behind the mask, my eyes peered out, seeming more green than usual. Perhaps the mask accentuated them. I decided I liked the look.

I may not yet have been an adept, but I'd been raised in the Night Court- vanity was to be expected. I was not the only acolyte who was crowded around the mirror, either.

"Come, come," the head steward admonished the lot of us, shooing us toward the tables laden with trays. Outside, the musicians were beginning to play. I took up my tray and headed into the ballroom.

Elua, it was overwhelming indeed! The noise, for one- the music, the laughter, the voices... but the sights were another thing altogether. The ballroom was crowded with adepts, all stunningly beautiful. They whirled together in dance, or swept past me in laughing groups, snatching the food from my tray as they passed. Determined not to shame my house, I concentrated on moving through the crowd gracefully, as I'd been trained. I tried not to gape at the costumes- or the scarcity of some of them. For the first part of the evening, I did my best to simply carry my tray between the tables and the kitchens... and tried very hard not to collide with anyone.

There was one particular guest who often caught my eye, however. He wore a fox's mask, and it made him look almost predatory among the befeathered adepts. He was no Night-Blooming Flower, as anyone could guess by watching him, but he seemed to be at ease with all of them. I watched him dancing with a woman from Camellia, until a young man pulled the fox away, laughing and kissing him. Curious, I looked for the fox over the course of the night, amusing myself by wondering who he was, and what brought him to the Midwinter Masque.

At one point, he caught me watching him, and raised his glass of _joie_ in my direction, smiling. Forgetting myself, I smiled back, until a pair of adepts dashed between us, laughing. When they passed, the fox was gone in the crowd.

After that, though, I could sense his gaze on me. When I looked for him, more often than not he was already watching me. It began to make me uncomfortable, and even some of the others noticed. When I paused in the kitchens for a break, Astor teased me with a comment about the fox watching me as if I were a mouse.

I laughed it off, but it bothered me, and how not? I was an acolyte of Mandrake House, and I would be no one's _mouse_. When I made my next trip out to the floor, I saw him seated at one of the tables, and resolved to speak to him.

I approached the table, watching him carefully. As I drew close, I could see that he was little more than a youth. Despite the mask, it was plain that he was barely past his majority. He wore his dark hair in the close-cropped style of a soldier, and while his costume would have been at home at a noble's Masque, it was woefully plain compared to the dramatic finery of the Night Court. It fit him well, though; he had the broad shoulders of a swordsman, and even while seated, he had a vitality to his movements.

As I approached, he saw me, and his lips curved. Behind the fox's mask, his eyes were dark and sharp, watching me with an interested gleam. I set down my tray and began to arrange the plates of sweetmeats on the table, conscious of his gaze. The hour of midnight was drawing near, and the musicians began a lively tune, as if encouraging the guests to finish one final dance before the hour was struck.

"You're not of the Night Court," I said over the noise, shooting him a glance.

He grinned, white teeth gleaming below the fox's snout. "Certainly not! But what gave it away, might I ask? It's the costume, isn't it?"

I paused, and met his gaze boldly. "Any man of the Night Court would know that the acolytes are too young for his attentions."

He leaned his chair back on two legs, propping his boots on the edge of the table, regarding me with a tiny smile. "You're no child," he said.

My tray now emptied, I began to gather the table's empty dishes. "Not yet sixteen, my lord. And if you are more than two years older than I, I'll... I'll have my marque sold to Valerian House. How is it you are here tonight?"

He laughed, and drew from his pocket a token, one of those that the Houses will give as favors or invitations. With a deft touch, he made the medallion dance over the back of his knuckles, a young man showing off a new trick. "Won it in a tournament. Bested six men to get it," he added, with a wink.

I raised an eyebrow, doing my best to react as I imagined an Adept might. "Skilled with a ... sword... are you?" I asked, and immediately felt foolish for having said it. I moved around the table to gather the dishes from his side, hoping he wouldn't see me flush.

My clumsy attempt at banter made him grin. "Mayhap you'll find out someday," he said. He took a deep swig of his wine, and eyed me again, more seriously.

"Or perhaps not. It's Mandrake House for you, is it?"

I straightened up with my tray of empty dishes. The song was nearing its end; soon it would be time for the Winter Queen and the Sun Prince to make their appearance. "Aye, my lord."

The fox stood up, sharp eyes still upon me. "A pity," he murmured, lips curved. "I would have liked to find you at Valerian House one day." He brushed a finger over my cheek. No one would have seen aught amiss in it: a simple, affectionate touch, innocent as stroking a favored pet...

Except that it wasn't. Elua knows, it shouldn't have aroused me so. I daresay that now, such a minor touch would no longer have that effect. But that night, I was fifteen, full of pent desires and surrounded by beauty I could not touch. That night, the fox was mysterious and handsome, independent and sure of himself, everything I wanted to be. That night, I had sneaked too many sips of _joie_, and his light touch set my blood afire. I drew in a sharp breath, and we stared at each other. We were of a height, and his dark eyes were close to mine. That was the first time, I think, that I truly saw desire in another- the first time I saw someone desire_ me,_ and knew it for what it was. Elua, I wanted to kiss him, and I could see it reflected in him, in the way his gaze dropped to my mouth...

At that moment, the musicians changed their tune, signaling the approach of midnight. Startled apart, we glanced toward them, then back at each other. He was grinning again, and all at once I remembered myself. I was an acolyte of Mandrake House, and it would be improper to be seen so with the nobleman, whoever he was. Not only that, but I would be needed to serve _joie_ for the toasts as soon as the spectacle was over. "Your pardon, my lord," I muttered, somewhat impolitely, and hurried away. I glanced back to see him catch a passing Eglantine youth about the waist, drawing him into the crowd.

The rest of the evening passed as might be expected. There was the pageant, the vanquishing of Winter by the Sun Prince, the return of youthful Spring. There were the toasts, the _joie_ to be served, and I did not see the fox again, though I looked. There was the music, louder and more intense than before, and the dancing, grown more frenzied. There was a thinning of the crowd as adepts slipped away together, searching out hidden alcoves in pairs and groups.

The Cereus acolytes were dismissed to their beds, no longer needed as the guests' appetites turned to different hungers. I gathered Astor and the others of us from Mandrake, and we went to wait in the coachhouse. There, the others chattered excitedly about the fete, and inevitably resorted to games of the sort that acolytes should not play amongst themselves. I watched, smiling, wondering about the nameless youth in the fox mask.

Some hours later, a few of our adepts came at last, ready to depart. Astor quickly pulled his hand free of Liah's bodice, and both of them grinned sheepishly. Most of the others had fallen asleep by then. The adepts, too drunk to care, ignored them.

"I'll get the horses," I offered, and slipped into the adjoining stable.

It was dark, some hours yet until dawn, and no one had been keeping the lanterns lit. Shivering in the winter air, I headed for the far end of the stable, where our horses had been placed. One light remained at that end, enough to find my way. More than one couple had found the privacy they needed in the stables. I could hear them as I walked, moans and soft cries that made me grit my teeth against an answering desire. Ignoring them, I readied the first horse, led it toward the courtyard.

On my return trip, Astor and the others had been roused to help. Laughing quietly, fumbling in the dark, we all made our way through the dark stable. Someone, I believe it was Liah, blundered into a woman returning from a tryst; I heard the lot of them laughing. And then, I stumbled into someone myself. I looked up, apologies dying on my lips as I saw, in the faint light, the outline of a fox mask.

We froze, and then he glanced over his shoulder at the others. No one was looking. Quick as lightning, he caught my upper arms and pulled me into the nearby empty stall.

I shook his hands off me, shoved at his chest. It made him step back, bumping against the wall. He raised his hands placatingly. "My apologies," he murmured softly. "You're too young, I know." I saw his grin gleaming in the dark. "I'm a bit drunk."

"Oh?" I replied, just as quietly. I reached up and plucked a bit of straw from his hair. His mask was a bit crooked. Had I heard _his _voice in the darkness, with the unseen woman Liah had stumbled into? The thought made desire begin to burn in my blood, thinking of the fox in the throes of passion.

We stared at each other, our breath mingling in the cold air. That moment, I realized that I was in control. He was young and foolish and drunk, and he wanted me. Of a sudden, I saw how I could use those things. Elua knows, I wouldn't... but I _could_, and I knew it.

It would be a disgrace to Mandrake House, not to mention blasphemy. I was not tempted enough for that. But Elua, just one kiss... I pressed my lips against his, before I could think about it too much.

Ah, gods, it was sweet! Sweet, and fierce, and forbidden, and thrilling. Pressed against me in the cold night air, his body was fever-warm; he tasted of _joie _and wine and a musk that had to be a woman's. He was drunk, and I was inexperienced; it was clumsy and all the more exciting for it. I pushed him back against the wall, feeling his phallus against mine, and he groaned into my mouth. For the first time, I felt the thrill of dominating another, of taking control. I had known of it, heard the whispers of the older acolytes, longed for it, but never yet dared to try it. It gave me a surge of confidence, and I pressed harder, let out a moan of my own. It seemed to recall him back from the passion. Our masks scraped against each other as he tore himself away.

"Elua," he breathed, holding me at arms' length. "Oh, you'll do very well for yourself one day, young Mandrake... but not if I defile you on the stable floor tonight."

Still heady with desire, I fought the urge to run my hands over him. "Perhaps it would be the other way around," I murmured.

His lips curved, revealing a dangerous gleam of teeth. "Do you think so?" He pushed me back, and let go my arms. "Go back to your House and learn a few things, boy. And try to stay out of trouble while you do." He brushed my cheek- briefly, possessively, even less innocently than before- then pushed past me. I was left standing alone in the stall, feeling once again like a lowly acolyte, untutored and naive.

But, oh, Elua! The memory of power, of control..._that kiss_... For weeks afterward, the memories burned within me, making for restless nights and difficult days...


End file.
